


but it's just a supercut (of us) | carulia

by ariamore



Category: Carmen Sandiego (Cartoon 2019)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Carjulia, Carulia, F/F, Gay, Jules Argent, Short: Carmen Sandiego: To Steal or Not to Steal, carmen sandiego - Freeform, idk what the right ship name is but, should've been endgame tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:02:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28836009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariamore/pseuds/ariamore
Summary: There’s a train, coursing through a tunnel, then light. They haven’t met yet. The world tilts and it resounds inside her, something she’s not aware of— but it’s there. Her words are solid— until she sees her. And she stammers.
Relationships: Julia "Jules" Argent/Carmen Sandiego | Black Sheep
Comments: 10
Kudos: 177





	but it's just a supercut (of us) | carulia

_'Cause in my head (in my head)_  
_I do everything right_

* * *

It’s like a performance.

Something cracks, a single motion. The lights above the building’s ceiling flinch. Everything’s just begun. The night is finite, a pulse is finite, and Carmen’s there for the screams. It could be an ovation, but it isn’t. It’s a horror show, it’s the smell of blood, beads of sweat, Julia’s screams, and Carmen’s there.

When the memories hurl through her mind, she splinters. She splinters again when Shadowsan tells her what she’s done, and it’s a good thing Zack and Ivy went out for a drive because _what the fuck Carmen get it together just get it together_ but she’s tearing apart in the living room.

Shadowsan doesn’t look at her, but his voice is faint.

_She’s in the hospital, with Devineaux._

But what he really meant, which Carmen thought he _should’ve_ said, was— _you put her in the hospital_. _Both of them_. And Carmen doesn’t recognize her own voice through her throat when she whispers, _where?,_ and does the next best thing.

The hospital is closed, it’s way past midnight already, and it’s only Thursday. Her ribs jab into each other and she struggles to breathe. Orange and blue and yellow lights bleeding into the Sacramento River, the skyline marks the San Francisco horizon.

This is the first thing she sees. A window, for the patient room 304, cracked open. Just enough for anyone to push it from the outside, just enough for Carmen to slide inside. Her pulse quickens. Maybe this was Julia asking the nurse to leave the window like this, hoping that— _no_. Hoping for _nothing_. _You almost killed her_. Julia’s only hope now would be to _live_.

And it’s true. Carmen’s throat aches as she swallows, and the room is gray when she slides inside. Julia has never looked so small. Or, Carmen has never seen her like this. _In a hospital bed._ _Connected to a fucking IV because of you_. The numbers at the monitor catch her eye, and her pulse pounds in her skull louder than its beeps.

Carmen wants to say her name. She wants to say Julia’s name, she wants Julia to _look_ at her, for Julia to glare and curse and lash out and scream _you hurt me you lied you hurt me_ because that’s what Carmen knows she deserves and she _wants_ it. She wants Julia to cut through her like she knows Julia could do at any moment, confirm that she’s just as wretched on the inside as she is on the outside. As wretched as she was in Poitiers five days ago. _When you almost_ —

She wants _anything_ but this silence. She can’t even break it. She wants her pulse to stop _screaming_ but she doesn’t know what she’d do if it ever stopped. She’s not brave enough. When Julia’s eyes flutter open, the room is dark, and Carmen’s hands almost unclench from the window frame when she hears Julia’s voice. The wind closes in on her from the streets, but she doesn’t breathe.

“… Is anyone there?”

Carmen’s fingers dig into the wood. Julia’s voice sounds softer than she remembers. Because all she can remember are her screams and the blood and the horror when she almost— _when you almost_ —

Even if Devineaux was there, Carmen was too fast, burning too hard. He couldn’t kick the flagpole before it fell onto Julia’s skull, then the sound of bone splintering and the sickening _thud_ of a body slumping to the floor— Carmen’s throat closes into itself and she can’t swallow, the San Francisco skyline blurs in her mind and Julia’s voice sounds far away when she— _she’s speaking Carmen’s name_.

“Carmen? Is it… is it you?”

It’s the hoarsest scrap of a voice that pierces Carmen right between the ribs, straight into her heart. Maybe Carmen wants a reason to leave, and maybe Julia’s anger would be enough. But she can’t decipher whatever’s laced in Julia’s voice, because she can’t even _fucking breathe_. It’s the night that stops, right with the rest of the world, and Carmen doesn’t move. She counts thirteen heartbeats, and Julia doesn’t say anything again.

Carmen leaves. If she had stayed a split second longer, she's unsure she would’ve been able to.

That night, Carmen’s dreams are full of Julia’s cries, Carmen’s name like a curse in her mouth, sweat like blood sticking through her shirt and staining the sheets.

This was the first time. Carmen stops sleeping altogether.

* * *

“Carm!” Zack’s bright voice greets her as she walks into the living room, and Ivy gestures a welcoming wave through a crunchful of cereal. Shadowsan nods and returns to his magazine, but Carmen can feel his eyes on her. Like a question. _What happened?,_ or— _what did you do?_

But he doesn’t say anything, so Carmen doesn’t, either. Night falls and Carmen cuts through a heist but her mind’s in a hospital, at the hospitalsouth from Presidio, at the corner of Golden Gate Park— at the woman with an IV and a monitor tracking her pulse. _At the woman who screamed your name who screamed for you to stop and you still— you almost—_

“You haven’t spoken to her yet.”

It’s dark and Carmen’s ready to walk past the exit, but Shadowsan’s staring at her from the couch, pausing from sharpening a blade.

“She’s still unconscious.”

Carmen bites the lie out, and closes the door behind her. She knows Shadowsan won’t judge her. She also knows he’s disappointed in her. In a week’s time, Carmen’s becoming better and better at mistaking concern for disappointment.

* * *

“Who knew my two areas of interest would ever intersect?”

The words are easy in the afternoon, like laughter, and sunlight pools through the windows. There’s something in Julia’s voice that Carmen can’t quite place, much less with the kink in one of Julia’s brows and the smile breaking through her lips, in the way she leans forward on her desk, dark eyes always on her.

Even if they haven’t seen each other for months, Julia still spins Carmen in and out of orbit, the innuendo’s a part of her now, _God_ , it’s enough to make Carmen go beyond crazy. The study room suddenly feels way smaller than what it is, and even if Julia just asked her a question, she’s holding Carmen’s heartbeat, right between her thumb and forefinger.

Another afternoon, and Carmen goes into the same study room, thinking about Julia’s hips so close to hers as they’re reading the same book. How her mouth moves when she speaks, how her gaze glints when Carmen asks her anything. She thinks of the moment Julia’s eyes landed on her, even if she’s the best lecturer in campus and her words are solid, _you may imagine the writings of the legendary poet Homer_ and _Ancient Egyptians had a system of highly complex_ — until she sees her, she sees Carmen, sitting at the very back of the lecture room— and she stammers. _Riddles_.

“Oh, aren’t you a quick study?”

Julia’s voice doesn’t stutter anymore, and there’s this _grin_ on her face, half smirk and half admiration. If there hadn’t been a screen between them then Carmen would’ve drawn Julia to her face, pulled her by the waist or the collar of her blouse, felt her breath against her mouth and kissed her amidst the books and the curtains and the afternoon sun— all to wipe the grin right off Julia’s face.

When they call the Interpol to Giza, Julia whispers Carmen’s name, and it sounds like _thank you_. If she hadn’t left before the Interpol agents saw her, she would’ve kissed Julia again, amidst the sirens and calls for backup, _you’re welcome_.

There’s a train, coursing through a tunnel, then light. They haven’t met yet, but the only thing Carmen’s thinking is _Paper Star can rip this train apart at any second_ but not if she captures her first. The passenger car’s empty, until she spots the familiar black-and-white hair at the corner of her eye, at the very last seat of the car.

But there’s a woman in a black suit at the middle table, and Carmen hasn’t looked at her properly even after asking, _can I have this seat?_

“Sure, feel free to use it until my partner returns.”

Maybe it’s the softest voice she has ever heard, maybe it’s the word _partner_ — that makes Carmen look up.

“Partner,” she echoes, but it sounds like a question. Something tilts inside her, something she’s not aware of— but it’s there.

She’s wearing a black suit, glasses that compliment her round eyes, freckles on her rosy cheeks. Carmen remembers what Player told her through her earpiece, it clicks.

“I meant— _travel_ partner,” she adds, clears her throat lightly. “He’s… I don’t really…”

But the way she trails away, the way her elbow kinks on the table, it stirs a question, it hangs over Carmen and she can’t really concentrate on the pocket mirror she’s held up, to make sure Paper Star’s still there.

“Well, wonderful meeting you, Jules.” The nickname just slips out, and satisfaction pools inside her when Julia Argent’s eyes widen. Somehow, the idea of kissing her flashes through Carmen’s mind before she can breathe out.

“Wait— but I didn’t get your name—”

But Carmen’s gone, and a question stirs and tugs at her chest. _Who are you, really?_

Maybe the memories are all they’d ever have.

* * *

_ These ribbons wrap me up  
I turn all of it to just a supercut _

* * *

There’s this nurse with her.

Soft eyes and soft hair, in a low ponytail and no make up on her face. Wouldn’t need any, either way. Her skin glows against her white gown. There’s this nurse, and there’s this mild blush on Julia’s cheeks when she rearranges her pillows for her. It’s been a week, but Julia giggles easily when the nurse says something about Ancient Greece and golf, and something just burns inside Carmen because it doesn’t make sense and _there’s nothing funny about it_.

She pretends it’s nothing. She pretends she doesn’t hear their conversations or the strength that’s returning to Julia’s voice. She pretends she doesn’t care about the nurse and— _or_ Julia.

But no one’s watching her, so who is she trying to convince?

It’s not until a few days later, when some burglars escape from the Saint George Museum— under Carmen’s supposed watch— that Shadowsan confronts her. His voice cuts through Julia’s screams resonating all across Poitiers, right before they can swallow Carmen whole.

“You are too distracted.”

He says it while confirming the police have intercepted the burglars’ path two streets ahead. His voice is blunt, flat, nothing rough. Just an observation, or a fact. “You’ve stopped sleeping to go see her. Julia.” Another fact, and Carmen can feel her eyes pricking, the circles under her blue-gray gaze burning, mirroring her lack of sleep.

“Devineaux was released a few days ago,” Shadowsan continues, looking ahead as they walk back to their warehouse. Carmen glances at the afternoon sky, clouds blooming into orange, memories like grains of sand, Julia’s laugh, a sinking sensation in her chest.

“The Chief explained everything to them. That your memories were wiped by VILE and you recovered them after Poitiers.”

_Did she explain how I almost killed Julia, too?_

She’s not aware she’s spoken out loud until Shadowsan stops walking, just to stare at her. His face shifts, and for the first time, Carmen sees his expression for what it has always been. _Concern_.

“You were not acting upon free will.” Shadowsan frowns. “Agent Argent and Devineaux will understand that, just like Zack and Ivy did— including myself. But, do _you_?”

Carmen holds his gaze for a heartbeat, then crushes the sigh forming inside her. “I don’t know.”

“If you don’t try, you never will.”

Something splits in Carmen’s chest. The only thing she does is nod.

* * *

She makes sure Julia’s asleep when she slips through the window. It’s already become a habit, without her realizing. And she walks past the exit to her room, just for the sake of knocking before going in.

“… Nurse Sasha? It’s alright, you can come in.”

 _Sasha_. The voice is drowsy, and its softness cuts at Carmen.

“I’ve been doing those stretches you recommended, and I feel so much better.” She’s awake, and she’s clicked the light switch above her bed, shifting a little to the right to set an empty cup on the nightstand. “Do you think next week I’ll be able to—”

Carmen walks in, and Julia’s hand drops the cup, it makes a dry bounce as it hits the floor. If it hadn’t been plastic, if it had been glass, it would’ve shattered. She doesn’t say anything, speechless or unwilling to speak, as Carmen picks the cup and puts it at the nightstand, then takes a step back.

 _This was a mistake._ There’s nothing behind Julia’s brown gaze as she stares, _nothing_ —

“I… I was hoping you’d show up.”

It’s always been like this. A back and forth. Only, this time, it’s different. Julia’s voice is faint, a whisper. And every word Carmen’s ever known has dried at her throat.

“But… you came here, didn’t you? A week ago,” Julia continues, and Carmen’s pulse runs, erratic, unable to match the whisper in those words’ syllables. Somehow, Carmen thinks of the first time they met at the train to Poitiers, and how she left Julia speechless without even meaning to. Now, it was the other way around, and Carmen’s insides were ravaging each other.

“You’re not the only one with stealth training,” Julia adds, and there’s _something_ in her voice that makes Carmen swallow— _is she joking_? _Did she just make a joke_? Until— 

“I… I was thinking about you today. A-and pretty much every other day, last week.”

The words sound infinite.

“Jules _—_ ”

The nickname just slips past Carmen’s lips and it’s cracked and frail, as if she were holding Julia between her palms, struggling to keep her from breaking— _like you almost did at the museum when you almost splintered her_ — and Carmen swears the round look in Julia’s eyes hurts more than a dagger through the chest.

“You—” Carmen flinches inwardly, swallows through the hoarseness in her throat. “How are you feeling?”

 _Fuck._ Carmen feels an urge to punch her own stomach. _You know how she’s feeling. Angry. Disappointed. Hurt, because you almost—_

“I’m okay,” Julia whispers. “I’ll be released next Thursday, actually.”

“What— what…” Carmen tries to twist the words out of her. _What did I do to you? What did I break inside of you?_

“What did the doctors say?” Julia suggests, and Carmen can’t do anything besides nod. Her left hand finds the lower hem of her red jacket, and her fingers curl into it. “They didn’t find any internal bleeding, just bruises and some sprains. But they’re keeping me in observation for a couple more days, just in case.”

The air smells like medicine and it burns down Carmen’s throat.

“You could’ve…” Carmen starts, and still can’t recognize the voice that rasps out of her mouth. “You _fainted_.”

“Well,” Julia pauses, blinking. “The doctors said—”

“It was my fault.” Carmen cuts her off, even if her voice has never been weaker. “It’s _my_ fault you’re stuck in this— in this _hospital bed_ —”

There’s a whisper, and there isn’t.

“Carmen?”

Julia’s gazing at her like she always has, and it splinters something inside Carmen because _she should be screaming she should be angry she should be afraid of you she should hate you_ but Julia has always been too _good_.

“I received a call from Chief Fraser a couple of days ago. She told me what VILE did to your memories— she explained what they changed, how they took everything that made you— _you_.” 

“But I hurt you.” Carmen says it out loud, for the first time. It’s true before it comes through her teeth, but frail when it leaves her lips.

“You hurt me.” Julia echoes, it’s barely a breath. “Did you mean it? Did… did you mean to hurt me?”

Something hitches at Carmen’s throat. There’s a look in Julia’s eyes like she already knows.

“ _No_ , but—”

“Then you didn’t.” Julia’s voice has never been softer. “Ivy, Zack, Shadowsan—” She makes a pause, and Carmen’s heart halts with it. “We all understood.”

Carmen doesn’t say anything.

“The Chief,” Julia tries again— “she said whatever happened at Poitiers wasn't you.”

“ _Fraser_ told you,” Carmen mumbled, bitterness burning at the curve of her throat. “When _I_ should have. I should’ve reached out to you as soon as you recovered from fainting, but I didn’t.” _Because I was afraid you’d hate me even more_. She’s not aware of those words slipping out of her mouth until Julia frowns.

“I could never hate you.”

“Maybe you should.” Her mouth draws downwards, she wishes she could look away from Julia’s face, but she can’t. “Because I’m a fucking _coward_ , Jules.” The words are true before they push through her teeth, and true when they leave her lips. “You don’t deserve—”

“Carmen.”

To her ears, it sounds like disappointment. But Julia moves from the bed to stand directly in front of her, and when her hands lace with Carmen’s, she almost forgets how to breathe. “Carmen,” she whispers again, softer now. “Why are you here?” Julia’s eyes brim in the dark, searching hers. And Carmen fears what she’ll find.

“Because—” The words lodge where Carmen’s throat curves into her mouth. She wonders if Julia can hear her pulse pounding through her skull, resonating from the very center of her chest. “Because I was worried you wouldn’t— because I thought— Jules, I was _terrified_ you wouldn’t wake up and I wouldn’t be able to tell you that I—” Carmen pauses, feels the sting behind her eyes before the tears form. “That I’m sorry.”

Julia blinks, just once. “Carm…” She unlaces one of their hands, and lifts it to Carmen’s cheek, and her gaze is full. “I’ve already forgiven you.” It’s not until her thumb traces under Carmen’s left eye, that Carmen realizes she’s crying. “But…you have to forgive yourself. Which,” she adds, and there’s _something_ in her voice now. “You haven’t.”

“What if it happens again?” Carmen croaks, and the words hang in the air. _What if I hurt you again?_ _What if—_

“VILE is gone,” Julia whispers. “All of their artifacts were destroyed by Interpol, because of you. They can’t hurt anyone anymore. Now you can—” There’s a pause, as Julia draws in a faint breath. “You can live the life you’ve always deserved. And, about that…” She moves away before Carmen can say anything. “There’s something I need to give you.”

She pulls a folder from the suitcase under the bed and hands it to Carmen, a different look in her dark eyes.

“A few months before Poitiers,” Julia begins with a murmur, glancing at the folder in Carmen’s hold. “The Chief assigned me this… task. To find out everything I could about your family. Your mother’s name and her address, it’s all there. She runs an orphanage,” Julia adds carefully, when Carmen doesn’t say anything. “I think she hoped you’d end up there, eventually.”

Carmen still can’t speak.

“Carm…? Are you—”

Then Julia’s breath catches at her throat, when Carmen’s arms wrap around her and pull her close. Before she knows it, Julia’s face nestles at the crook of her neck. Even if Carmen’s mind is a mess, somehow, she breathes out, _thank you_. For the first time in _weeks_ , her voice feels like her own— until Julia makes the faintest sound of discomfort and Carmen pulls away from her before she can take another breath.

“Did I—” Carmen starts, desperation draining the warmth that filled her insides _you hurt her you hurt her again you said you wouldn’t and you_ —

“I’m okay,” Julia whispers, but one of her hands moves to her lower rib, and Carmen doesn’t miss the flash of pain that crosses Julia’s eyes for a split heartbeat.“It’s nothing, just a bruise.” 

_A bruise you caused_. Poitiers at night shoots through Carmen’s mind, Julia’s screams and splintering bones.

“You should rest,” Carmen croaks. She’s numb when she adds, “I’ll leave you to rest,” when she really wants to say, _I’ll leave before I fuck everything up again._

“Carm…”

It’s so soft, Carmen wonders if she’s imagined it. But she hasn’t. Her hand rests on the window’s handle, and when she turns Julia gazes at her and the name in her mouth sounds more like _stay_.

The bed’s small, and Carmen whispers _are you sure?_ , and she fears and fears until Julia tugs her hand, and it just takes a single blink for Carmen to join her. The air smells like medicine, and it doesn’t.

“You won’t open it yet?” Julia murmurs, lying on her back but facing Carmen, who sighs.

“I don’t know if… I don’t know if I should.”

“Why?”

“I’ve looked for her, Jules,” Carmen mumbles, fiddling with the corner of her pillow instead of looking at Julia’s eyes, scarcely a few inches away from hers. “For so long, and I could never find her. What if she just— doesn’t _miss_ me anymore?” _Maybe she doesn’t miss you at all. Maybe she doesn’t even think about you. Maybe she—_

“She loves you,” Julia tells her, and her voice is soft, and it’s sure. “And she’ll love who you are now, just like I—” Her gaze grows impossibly round in a tenth of a heartbeat, and something jolts inside Carmen.

There’s a train, coursing through a tunnel, then light. They haven’t met yet. The world tilts and it resounds inside her, something she’s not aware of— but it’s there. Her words are solid— until she sees her. And she stammers.

 _Riddles_.

She’s a thief, she’s an agent. _Who are you, really_?

But Julia’s not saying anything, and she doesn’t say anything when she leans in and kisses her. It’s as if the world breathes out, and Carmen breathes out with it. It’s a question, it’s Julia’s hand, tracing Carmen’s cheek, Carmen kissing her back.

 _What was Poitiers like, before us?_ _Before everything?_

She murmurs the question, Julia tells her. The universe tilts, her face still against Carmen’s.

 _Poitiers was beautiful. It still is. Poitiers is lights, it’s sounds, it’s colors_.

And Carmen takes it all in.

* * *

_So I fall  
Into continents and cars  
All the stages and the stars _

* * *

The outskirts of Buenos Aires burn.

Buenos Aires burns, it’s summer and it’s hot; it’s everything Carmen remembers from pieces of her childhood, and it’s _more_. It’s more, in the way the sun has already tanned Julia’s shoulders in a single morning, the look in Julia’s eyes whenever Carmen’s tongue rolled with every _r_ , as if she’d grown up in the midst of these colorful streets and not in the dense cold of VILE’s headquarters, the warmth of her skin in the dark.

The motel is cozy, the bed’s still undone, but sunlight trickles in and there's something poetic about it.

“Jules, wait!” Carmen laughs, as Julia’s already walking out of the room with a determined grin on her face. “You have a bit of sunblock on your nose.”

“Okay, but we’re going to miss the first tram ride—” Julia says, but Carmen peers at the tip of her nose, where the spot of white sunblock lay. She’s moved in closer, and when her thumb brushes by Julia’s nose, her heartbeat skips when Julia’s eyes widen. Carmen kisses her, and Julia mumbles “ _we’re going to be late_ ,” through their kiss, but she sounds as giddy as Carmen feels.

* * *

“We’re here!” Julia announces brightly, and the houses line by colors, blue and orange and yellow. Carmen’s heart beats like an engine, erratic through her chest, but the streets are still. Children’s laughter streams from the playground at the front, scurrying across the multicolor swings and the see-saws.It’s the same house, the same patio from the picture in the folder— the one Julia gave her, many months ago— a memory, Carmen falling and Julia catching her, holding each other while the world spun and turned. 

“Carm?” Julia’s hand laces with hers, squeezes gently. She stands next to her, voice soft. “You okay?”

It brings Carmen back to the present, and she swallows before meeting Julia’s eyes. “I… I’m not sure I’ve ever been more nervous.”

“You’ll be fine,” Julia smiles, and it steadies her. “This time, we know you’re knocking on the right door.”

“Thanks for being here, Jules,” Carmen whispers. _You mean the world to me._ She’s not aware she’s said it out loud, until Julia leans in and kisses her cheek, and her eyes glow.

“I’ll be right here, Carm,” she promises. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And Carmen knows this. When she knocks at the door, a voice answers _I’ll be there in a second!—_ and in a split heartbeat, it sounds so _familiar_. A few seconds go by, and the door opens. They look at each other, _she_ smiles first— and it’s as if the world softens with it.

_We were wild and fluorescent_  
_Come home to my heart_

**Author's Note:**

> the canon ending left me in tears, but yeah <3


End file.
